A Quick Bite(6)
As did the bow around his neck, Lissianna thought as she recalled the cheery red splotch of color that had been half-crushed by his chin as he'd struggled to look at her.
It was the bow that finally had her relaxing as she realized he must be the special surprise her mother had driven into the city for. The Sweet Tooth Jeanne Louise had suggested. Though, Lissianna thought, the man in her bed had looked healthy enough, but then, you couldn't always tell until you got close enough to smell the sweetness an untreated diabetic exuded.
In effect, the fellow was a walking birthday cake. And a yummy-looking one at that, she decided, recalling his dark good looks. His eyes had been piercing and intelligent, his nose straight, his chin strong… and his body had been rather nice, too. He'd appeared long and lean and muscular, stretched out on the bed.
Of course, after her experience with Dwayne, Lissianna was aware there might be some padding under the jacket he wore. She hadn't looked for cucumbers, but the man hadn't been sporting a tan, bottled or otherwise, yet hadn't looked anemic, but then her mother wasn't likely to make the mistake Lissianna had earlier. Marguerite would have made sure he was exactly what she wanted to give her daughter, and Lissianna was thinking that Jeanne Louise was probably right, and he was an untreated diabetic. Nothing else made much sense. Her mother would hardly drive all the way into town for just a standard healthy individual when she could have ordered a pizza and handed Lissianna the delivery boy, which is what she usually did.
So, he was a sweet to eat, she reasoned, and felt hunger gnaw at her stomach. Lissianna wouldn't have minded a nibble right then. Just a little taste to tide her over until her mother actually gave him to her. She quickly killed that thought. Even Thomas wouldn't be able to cajole her mother out of her bad mood if Lissianna pulled a stunt like that. So, walking back in there and biting him was out, but she still needed to fetch fresh stockings.
While Lissianna knew she should probably just return to the games room without them, it seemed to her that— as the surprise was already spoiled—it was silly to run around in ruined stockings all night. She was here, and it would only take a moment to grab a fresh pair from those she'd left behind for just such an emergency.
* * *
Chapter 2
Greg stared at the closed door. He couldn't believe that someone had just opened it, paused— obviously startled at the sight of him—then apologized and closed the door while he'd just lain there like an idiot, too startled to say or do anything. Not that he'd had much of a chance to react, but still…
The muscles in his neck began to ache with the strain of keeping his head raised to peer at the door. Heaving a sigh of defeat, Greg let it drop back onto the pillow and began to mutter under his breath about his own stupidity.
It had come to his attention tonight that he was a complete idiot. Greg had never thought of himself as an idiot. In fact, he'd always considered himself somewhat intelligent, but that was before he'd climbed into the trunk of a strange car and locked himself inside for no good purpose that he could think of.
"Definitely an idiotic move," Greg announced, but then perhaps insane was a better description. Stupid would have been accidentally locking himself in a trunk. Climbing in and calmly pulling it closed was more along the lines of inexplicable insanity. And he was starting to talk to himself, he pointed out. Yes, it would appear he'd lost his grip on sanity. He couldn't help wondering exactly when he'd lost his mind, and how.
Perhaps insanity was contagious, he pondered. Perhaps he'd caught it from one of his clients. Not that Greg had any clients he'd have diagnosed as insane. He dealt mostly with phobias in his practice, though he treated a few patients with other, more long-term, difficulties. He supposed he could have had the seed all along, and tonight it had simply sprouted into full-blown madness. That was a thought. Perhaps insanity ran in the family. He should check with his mother on that, find out whether they had a madman or two in the family history.
It wasn't just the climbing into the trunk that bothered Greg, that had only been the first of his mad actions tonight, and one he'd regretted as soon as the trunk lock had clicked into place. He'd lain in the dark, cramped space, calling himself all kinds of a fool for at least half an hour as the car had driven to this house. Then the car had stopped, the trunk had opened and what had he done? Had he leapt out, apologized for his unnatural behavior, and gone home? No. He'd stood and waited as the pretty brunette from the elevator had gotten out of the car to join him, then had followed her—docile as you please—into this huge house and up to this room.
Greg had been as cheerful and trusting as a five-year-old as he'd—without even being asked—climbed onto the bed and splayed himself for her to tie down. Greg had even returned her smile when she'd patted his cheek and announced, "My daughter is going to love you. You are my best birthday gift ever."